Marked
by Betta329
Summary: What if you woke up one day with the name of your soulmate tattooed on your wrist and it was your mission to find him? What if your name never showed up?


Author's Note: this plot bunny came to me and I made a little one shot. It could be more depending on what you guys say or think, but as it is right now it'll probably just stay like this. Let me know if you're dying for more ;) and thanks for stopping by.

Betta

* * *

They told me years ago that when my soul mate was born their name would appear on my wrist.

I had a patch of freckles once that looked like Max. My mom said I was seeing things.

One time my brother Cooper dropped a hot metal spoon on me and it looked like Dyson was on my wrist, but it went away.

It's a cruel universe out there for a teenager without a mark.

I don't know a single person without a name on their wrist.

But then there's me. Blaine Anderson. The soulless wonder.

One time Cooper told me I didn't have a name on my wrist because my soulmate was dead.

Another time he told me it was because my soulmate wouldn't be born until I was 80. Tough luck in jail little bro.

How is it that EVERYONE I know has a soul mate but me?

I tried to defy nature. And they encourage it. Date. Get out. Meet people. But nothing. A whole lot of nothing.

Was I some sort of malfunctioned freak destined to be alone forever?

Nice one universe.

So I'm 18, wandering around the streets of New York City trying to find a place where I fit, a place where I belong, but in a world where being driven by taking care of your other half is the most important thing, what do you do when you find yourself alone?

Get involved with musical theater of course. Maybe there I can find a happy ending. Or die tragically. One or the other.

These people? They get it. Some of them have blank wrists. Some of them have names that have disappeared or been scratched out. I'm tired of living my life by someone else's rules. I'd much rather make my own.

"Come on, Blaine," Sebastian called from across the room, a cigarette hanging from the tip of his lip about to fall out. But it never did. It was like that little curl could keep anything balanced right there on the edge. Including me.

Gathering my things, well, more like slamming my stuff into my bag as I dealt with another bout of bitterness washing over me, I got up and followed him outside to his car. The drive went by in silence. Sebastian had a name on his wrist he refused to acknowledge. And whenever someone asked him about it he went off explaining that no one owned him and he wasn't going to live his life for some divine intervention when he was happy making his own way.

I agreed.

Love was stupid, a fallacy, a game.

Then why did I want it so bad?

Why when I was alone in my room at night did I think about nothing else other than wanting to be loved and find my person?

At this rate I'd be middle aged before I could so much as think about sharing that safety with someone.

Sebastian grabbed the back of my neck and smashed his lips into mine, feeling them practically bruise as he dropped me off. "Later," he said as I stepped out into the cool air and pulled my jacket tighter around me. I looked up at the building I'd called home for months now, Sebastian rode off in the cab like a phantom pressing his fingerprints into glass, not really leaving any sense of life or memory behind.

I couldn't bring myself to climb the stairs into the nothingness so I walked down to a little cafe.

There wasn't much in the dingy place when I took a seat on a stool, hoping to get a medium drip to chase off the chill.

Lost in thought staring down at my hands, most people kept their names displayed proudly like a badge of honor, but I kept most everything about me covered.

"Need an ear?"

I started at the question and looked up into the most beautiful blue eyes and full lips I'd ever seen. I sputtered for a minute then shook my head like I could clear it of the random thoughts I had spinning around. "What?"

"You seem like you need someone to listen. Guy like you shouldn't be so down."

"What kind of guy am I?" I asked raising an eyebrow.

"Young. Handsome. Should be smiling but instead has this down in the dumps face. Here. Have a cookie. Or cake! I'll get you a piece of cake. Cake always makes me feel better." And with that the guy jumped straight down and then bounded back up with a piece of chocolate cake covered in chocolate icing. "Here you go, cutie."

And when his hand brushed mine I looked down at his wrist and gawked.

On his wrist was written a name in dainty little ink.

A name I knew entirely too well.

Blaine Anderson

The boy stood there staring a bit uncomfortably. "So um, yeah. You gonna eat that?"

I blinked for a moment then looked up at him. "I"m Blaine Anderson, and I've been looking for you forever."


End file.
